ollied by karmageddon
Before making a home in NYC I spent one season living in South Lake Tahoe. I split my ski time between Kirkwood and Heavenly, and had countless spectacular days on the mountain. One perfect spring day, I ascended upper California on the Canyon lift, and discovered the High Roller Terrain Park to be overrun with what we non-park skiers call “Park Rats.” Baggy pants, oversized neon jackets, skull candy headphones and helmetless, they were all over the park and the California side like rats in a New York City kitchen.
After asking around I learned that these rats had descended upon South Lake Tahoe for South Shore Soldiers (SSS), a Park/Pipe/Freeride Spring Break Ski Camp that’s been operating at Heavenly for many years. While I liked to pretend that they were annoying because they spent their days banging themselves up in the park when I thought it’d be preferable to spend time riding the whole mountain and finding powder stashes, I was curious, and just a little envious as I watched campers learning the ins and outs of safely riding the park.
After nursing a jealousy throughout the 06/07 season that Ben was able to throw 3s in the park, I considered signing up for an 2008 Soldiers session. And so, just a few months shy of 30, I threw down $500 to become one of those rats and spend three days destroying my body. Ben & I recruited a few other “Soldiers” (Matt- epiclines, Sarah, and Scott), I secured time off from work for “Spring Break,” booked some deluxe rooms at the oh-so-glamorous Best Tahoe West, packed Costco-size bottles of Aleve, and descended upon South Lake Tahoe.
Scott, Matt, and Ben arrived for the proper start of camp and had orientation on Monday and their first park day on Tuesday. Sarah & I arrived late Tuesday night (I didn’t think the bosses at work would let me have yet another full week off for skiing after Utah in January, so I worked a short week), the boys picked us up and we beelined for some of the best late night West Coast grub: In-N-Out. We crashed for a few hours of precious sleep before our first proper day together.
WEDNESDAY / We woke up to what I consider to be an almost perfect spring ski day in Tahoe… bluebird skies, sparkly snow, and a little nip in the air with a promise of warm afternoon conditions. I love me some powder, but spring skiing is really a great way to wind down a season. I was a mix of emotions walking into the SSS HQs at the Cal Bar, but began to settle into a general feeling of psyched-ness upon meeting the one, the only, the amazing Rich Marlowe, our coach.
The unshaven, baggy sport jersey wearing, boyish-looking, 28-year-old Rich made his way to Tahoe a few years ago from Cleveland. He’s on the Heavenly freeride team, rocks the park with a specialty in rails, and spends his off-snow time spinning as a DJ (the one, the only, Dick Nasty) and most likely breaking hearts all around the lake. He’s conversational, positive, fun, knows his way around the park, is an enthusiastic and excellent coach, and was definitely our biggest believer. Check out Rich at:
http://www.skiheavenly.com/mountain/parks_pipes/team/rich_marlowe/
After booting up we headed to the on-snow bunker. Every year SSS has a park custom built into the High Roller Terrain Park under the Canyon lift on the California side. Halfway through the SSS park is the staging area where we barbecue around lunchtime, take our breaks and hits of Aleve, and watch the other campers doing sicko stuff through the park. The three big features in the private park were: A butter box (kicker over a 10-15 foot gap) to a long, raised “box” of snow that resembled a stick of butter, with a small lip off the other end to the runout), the road gap (raised bit of snow that stops suddenly at a perpendicular cat track, so you fly off the raised bit of snow, “gapping” the cat track, and land on the steep, groomed pitch below), and the most massive of massive kickers at the very end of camp, which has a super steep and long runout, and is right next to the chairlift, giving the Tahoe gapers a bit of a show.
Beyond the SSS Private Park, there’s Groove Park (the beginner’s park), Powderbowl Park (which we started calling Powderhood after Ben’s neighborhood in Park City), and the public part of High Roller Park.
Rich took us to Groove to warm up. Sarah & I started with the basics of proper kicker technique: a firm, wide stance as you work up the tranny, an ollie, or pop, off the lip, solid and balanced air with an optional safety grab, and a smooth landing.
Due to my age, an understanding of the bad things that can happen in a terrain park and my last experience in a terrain park (stitches from crashing in the halfpipe at Killington last season, look below for an entry on that), I was mighty nervous to get started. I calmed my nerves remembering that being coached on snow is not a new thing for me… years of ski racing and summer ski camps always presented scary challenges where I needed to have faith in my mentors and simply absorb their lessons and put them into practice.
I put my faith into Rich’s expertise, and quickly advanced to understanding the basic physics of working up the kicker, feeling comfortable soaring through the air, and dialing in a solid landing. By the end of the day I made it through all the kickers in Groove, 1 & 2 in Powderhood (Powderhood is one step up from Groove but not as big and badass as High Roller or the SSS private park). I managed to avoid crashing at all, locked in some solid safety grabs and started working on my mute grabs. All in all, I was on a high when we made our way down, all in one piece, to the Cal Bar at the end of the day.
After an early dins at Baja Fresh/Nap/Quickie Run/Shower/Aleve, it was time to pre-game. We christened the Shot-Ski to its first Tahoe experience and headed to the Tudor Pub to hear Rich spin and have some cocktails, practice our card tricks, and talk about our epic day with the other campers and coaches. Ben & Sarah went too big during pre-gaming and had to leave early, and a few hours later Scott kind-of got in a fight so the rest of us headed back to the good old BTW.
THURSDAY / We were moving slowly Thursday morning. I rallied the troops with some caffienation and eggy sandwich goodness from Alpen Sierra and we set up for another sun-kissed spring day in the parks. My hit list for the day was a little aggressive: I wanted to attempt a 3 (360º spin in the air), hit both #3 in Powderhood and either #1 or #2 in High Roller, and improve my mute grab. After some solid warm-ups through Groove, I asked Rich if he thought I was ready for a 3. He said I had the airtime and that I should go for it. On my first attempt I made it all the way around, landed on my feet but slid out. I can’t tell you how happy I was! Same thing happened on the second, but it already began to feel more comfortable. The form had a ways to go, but I was certainly proud of the start.
The day flew by. After my 3s in Groove I was feeling confident and ready to attack my other targets on the hit list. In Powderhood I went for bigger air and dialed in my safety and mute grabs, slowly improving my mutes and finally building up the courage to hit #3. I also started to understand how my body processes the park. My first attempts leave me with the general feeling of being in a car crash. Then, through repetition and practice, the discomfort moves to comfort, and then onto actually enjoying the experience and having fun. I then realize I’m ready to step it up and try something new.
The group decided to split in the afternoon because Sarah and Matt wanted to go back to Groove to work on their hit lists, but Ben & I wanted to stay in High Roller and Powderhood. Rich set us up with coaches Nick and Kenyon for the afternoon. Note: These kids are in high school. No joke. Almost-30-year-old me was being coached by some high schoolers. If there was ever proof that I’m living some sort of Peter Pan lifestyle, it was this.
After locking #3 in Powderhood, I set my sights on #1 in High Roller, looking back, my biggest challenge of camp. It took me five painful attempts to dial it in.
So the jumps in High roller, for a little, meek park rat like me, are big and scary. The tranny is long and neverending. The deck is big and just looking at it makes one cringe thinking of the pain that would ensue upon casing or knuckling. Rich spent considerable time explaining that, if you’re nervous and trying a new jump, it’s probably better to go big rather than go small. Why? Because the kickers in High Roller are so big that I would never overshoot. But if I’d undershoot, I would wreck myself on the knuckle or deck. And that is much more painful than making a solid landing and skiing out or at least crashing on a downward slope.
So here we go: Karmageddon’s Five Attempts to Nailing #1 in High Roller…
/1/ Ben was up at the top, and I nervously took off. I fully absorbed Rich’s advice, and went…. Enormous. I went flying up the tranny, to the great unkown of the edge. I cannot explain to you how scary it is working up a wall of snow with just sky above you. I ollied, and did not simply clear the deck. I soared beyond it. I marveled at the runout below. I overshot in a major way, and to Nick’s show, slammed into the runout just below the top half of it and went rocketing, on my butt and back, at an ungodly speed, toward the pinetrees on the side of the run. I prepared for the impact, thinking that this was going to be the end of not only my Soldiers week, but my ski season, but managed to stop before the trees. Shaking with adrenaline, I made my way to the lift… ready for more!
/2/ Nick advised me to take one or two nice GS turns before the heart of the tranny. Snow can change through the day, and the tranny was running fast this afternoon. Hoping to ollie and hit the landing in control, with not too much air, I pulled what I am calling the “Double Ejection Slip-n-Slide.” I went up, and came down right on the edge of the knuckle, but my skis stayed right there, nicely and neatly sitting side by side on the knuckle, and I went flying down the runout on my belly, just like we did when we were kids racing down the Slip-N-Slide! My chest ached with pain at the impact and slide, but I got up laughing hysterically at what had happened. It was a good show for all spectators and the chairlift!
/3 and 4/ Two more painful knuckles. The skis were far enough beyond the knuckle that they stayed on, but the impacts were definitely taking a toll on my knees.
/5/ And finally, my moment of glory. One GS turn, a nice, balance, powerful ollie, and I flew over the deck and landed just perfectly on the runout.
I made a few more runs through High Roller, on a high and hitting #1, each time reaching down for a safety or a rough mute. We returned to camp triumphant, but the other soldiers were in a sad state. Scott was experiencing serious toe-bang and not feeling well, and Matt, in his attempt to nail a 3, had his leg twisted around in his boot and was barely able to put weight on his leg. We slowly made our way back to Gunbarrel, and Ben & I, as though our bodies had not taken enough of a beating, skied one terrible run down the face.
FRIDAY / Friday morning Ben, Sarah & I sent Matt and Scott to the emergency room so Matt could figure out what was wrong with his leg, then we headed to Cal Bar for our last day of camp. Sadly, Rich had to work that day. So we had Martin, a high schooler from South Lake Tahoe High, as our coach. For all the talking and enthusiasm that exudes from Rich, Martin radiates a quieter, more laid-back style. At first I was nervous that Martin wouldn’t give me the direction and feedback that my Type-A personality (yes, even in the terrain park) demands, but I soon realized that Martin is just as on top of coaching as is Rich.
Ben & I were on our own for the morning since Sarah had a conference call, so we only did a few runs through Groove since that park is simply too small for Ben. I locked in a few 3’s, and decided that my two goals for the day would be to dial in a solid mute grab and attempt a 3 on one of the bigger jumps to be found in Powderhood.
I spent most of the remainder of my last camp day slamming my butt painfully into the rear area of my bindings. When I ollied and went for a mute, instead of bringing my legs up under me, I was kicking them out to grab. This put me in the back seat each and every time for my landings. My knees, lower back and butt suffered as a result. Ben was locking in bigger and better 3s, throwing them solidly and easily in both Powderhood and High Roller, but his shin-bang was horrible after just a few runs, and he began to think he might have to quit early in the afternoon.
Since I was having trouble with my Mutes, Martin encouraged me to try Japan grabs. I quite enjoyed them… a Japan grab is where you take your hand and grab the inside of the opposite ski behind the back of the binding. It’s like a tricksy safety and looks cool in the air. The rest of the day consisted of locking in grabs, one attempt at a 3 off #1 in Powderbowl (I was too scared so only got about 250 around, even though I had the air. Ben decided to spend the last few runs of our day working on his photog skills and locked in some great shots of me and some of the other skiers.
The day wound down, and we soon found ourselves facing the last run on the last day of Soldiers. I was eager to hit #1 in High Roller once more and then head down to Powderhood for one last attempt at a 3 off #1. Ben skied down to #1 in High Roller, yelled over to Rich, who was working on the rails nearby to watch me (“Rich, watch Jenny. She’s going to do something cool!”), and signaled for me to hit it. I went in hot… SUPER hot. The snow was faster and the wind was in my favor, I ollied hard, went in for the Japan, made the grab, and just kept going… and going… I was overshooting in a major way. I had so much air that my body started tipping forward and I ended up smacking the snow with… my face.
I got up to Rich running over with my other ski. I started to feel blood seeping from my nose. When Rich asked if I was okay, I smiled and asked if my teeth were bleeding, then said I felt okay and just wanted to head to the camp for a quick rest.
Ben and I sailed into camp and I quickly popped off my skis and sat down. He started sharing what I had done with the camp leaders and other campers, and they were asking if I was okay. I felt a little shaken up, but generally felt fine.
Ben took a seat next to me, and after looking around and assessing the scene, I turned to him and asked: “Ben, where are we? What chairlift is that?” Mind you, not only have I been skiing at Heavenly almost every winter for 10 years, it was, for one season, my home mountain. And all of a sudden I didn’t know where I was?
Yes, dear readers, it was a concussion. They started asking me to remember numbers and names, all of which proved difficult. But after only a short while I was able to remember their numbers and names, and I was popping on my skis for a shaky ride down to Gunbarrel. I walked away with a sore head, a puffy and cut right cheek and eye, a sore and slightly bruised wrist, and a yellow and bruised left elbow.
We made it home to discover Scott incredibly sick (with what he thought was Strep) and Matt in possession of crutches with the diagnosis of having a severe bone bruise. Matt, Sarah, Ben & I rallied for the famed SSS Awards Ceremony and Mechanical Bull Night. I am excited to say that I shared the “most improved” for our group with Ben. For this title I won some super cool schwag, which I sported the following freeskiing day. Rich had some very nice words for his elderly group, and I stood up and complimented the Soldiers camp (For the record, my days as a soldier were enough to prove to me that the camp is excellent… I highly recommend it!). We stuck around the party for a little while, then made our way back to BTW, our old, weary bones ready for a good sleep.
As you might note, it’s been a few months since Soldiers. Those first two weeks back in New York, I sought out any opportunity to show off my bruises and cuts, to eagerly share a few sentences about how badass we were, and, in the comfort of my desk chair and studio, nurse my hurt and broken body. I finished reading Anthony Bourdain’s “Kitchen Confidential,” a book about his rise to celeb chef status in cutthroat NYC kitchens through the 80s and 90s, and found a sentence, written about being a chef, that I thought applied to one of the reasons I love skiing, and more specifically, why I love at least pretending to be a park rat: “I’m asked a lot what the best thing about cooking for a living is. And it’s this: to be a part of a subculture. To be part of a historical continuum, a secret society with its own language and customs.”
I’m not thinking every day about Soldiers anymore. But when a memory surfaces, or a word from the “park rat lexicon,” comes to mind, I always smile and IM Ben as quickly as possible to declare: “I miss Soldiers.” I was dead-set on returning next year, but now I’m not so sure. I don’t know if my bank account or my body can handle much more of what I occasionally view (in my aging years) as an immature pursuit of recklessness. Clearly I’ll never be a park or ski movie star, so why am I so eager to get to the park? I keep returning to Bourdain’s quote, and the simple fact that, when I reach that level of comfort with a trick or a jump it’s just plain exhilarating.
Lately my thoughts have turned to putting my mind, energy and finances toward more lifetime sustainable types of skiing, like backcountry and exploration of resorts I haven’t visited, and international ski travel. However, Ben & I share a certain weakness when it comes to skiing: We don’t know how to say no. And I am already mighty scared for when March 2009 rolls around. We might not be able to say no to one last battle with the South Shore Soldiers, on the trannys of High Roller Terrain Park in Heavenly, California.






